Constant Companion
by The Madhatter2
Summary: His two constant companions returned from their short vacation spot in Ketamine Land. House deals with his pain with some help. HouseCuddy friendship.


**CONSTANT COMPANION**

By The Madhatter

**Rating**: PG

**Pairing**: House/Cuddy friendship

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them. House belongs to David Shore and Fox.

**Spoilers**: "Cane and Able"

**A/N**: I'm leaving to move back into my apartment in about an hour. So instead of sleeping, I decided to write this fic. My goal was to write a fic and post it before I left. I originally wrote something else, but I absolutely hated how it turned out so I scrapped it. Amazingly enough, this popped out, so I hope it's not extremely horrible as it is 4:45am PST. :P I'd love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy.

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House sat on his bed, celebrating the return of his best friend and companion. Splayed across his lap, the sleek, shiny wood gleamed in the dim lamp light, delighted that it was out in the open again, mocking him almost. The dark, dusty closet was too confining, especially stuffed in the rubber scented golf bag. Now, it was winking back at its owner, taunting him with that sarcastic curve of an upside down J. This was payback for those lonely two months. And it wasn't going to leave ever again.

He set the rubber tip on the floor and tapped it to some unknown rhythm only his hands knew. The smooth wood almost felt foreign to him. His fingers curled around the width of the shaft, molding to it instantly. House cursed inwardly. They were back. The cane and the pain. His two constant companions returned from their short vacation spot in Ketamine Land. Or maybe they were secretly hiding, disguising themselves until the opportune moment arrived to stab him in the leg like an assassin. Now, he was too injured, too wounded to fight back.

With a sigh, House stilled the cane and slid his hand up to the curved handle, gripping it firmly. The faded calluses on his right hand whimpered in protest as he shifted his weight onto it to stand up. He winced at the slight pinches in his palm as he crossed his bedroom, went passed the living room and into the kitchen, where he expertly took a glass tumbler out of a cabinet and poured a healthy portion of scotch with one hand. It seemed the old, familiar habits decided to come out of hibernation, too.

After taking a mouthful, he took his numbing agent to the worn leather couch in the middle of the living room and carefully lowered himself down, stretching out. Two months ago, he was on his way to walking perfectly again. Two months ago, he never felt so relieved and happy in his life. One month ago, he was running at least three miles a day. One week ago, he ran the eight miles into work, feeling on top of the world. Yesterday, his world came crashing down. He took another gulp. What a hell of a summer.

He eyed the white plastic phone that he left on the coffee table in the morning as he debated on whether or not he should call Wilson for a ride into work today. Thankfully he decided against it, the lying scoundrel. He took another generous gulp of alcohol. Tomorrow, he'd have to face the smug face of his best friend and endure the pity looks from Cameron when he'd bring his third leg along for the ride. He wasn't sure if he could face all that unwanted attention to his weakness, to his failure. But he needed to tell someone. Someone who wouldn't rub it in his face or pity the poor wounded man. Someone who understood.

House picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

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Cuddy's eyes flew open at the shrill ringing of the phone echoing between the four walls of her bedroom. The piercing scream startling her from her dreams, shattering all thoughts, leaving behind only a string of curses upon her lips.

"He-Hello?" she asked groggily into the receiver.

Slight static rustled over the line, but no answer.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Cuddy asked, her voice sterner than before. "If this is some kind of sick joke you're playing at two in the morning—"

"It failed," said a deep male voice, almost a whisper.

Cuddy's eyes widened as she sat up in bed, phone pressed up against her ear, hands gripping the handset tightly. "What?" she replied in an equally quiet voice. "Are you—"

"Yes. I'm fairly certain."

"House—" She could imagine House spread out on his couch, rubbing his forehead the way he always did when he was in deep thought or arguing with her. "It could be sore. It could be—"

"No." Cuddy bit her lip. He sounded so… defeated, so broken. So unlike him. Fear gripped her chest as her heart broke for her friend. It wasn't fair. Those torturous two months of freedom to be stripped away so quickly. "It's back. The pain's back."

This time she didn't doubt him. The pain, the anger, the frustration, the sincerity of his voice told her everything she needed to know, told her the absolute truth. This wasn't a joke or some obscure tactic to prove a point. It was back. She could nearly hear his world shattering over the phone.

"I guess we're back to square one." House laughed bitterly. "I should've known better. You were right, I—"

"House," she warned. "We both knew there was a fifty percent chance for the pain to come back and we took it anyway. Let me go back and take another look at the research. Maybe we missed something, maybe—"

"No. No more."

"What? House, if there's something we missed that could help you—"

"No. I don't care if there is a way." Cuddy bit her lip harder as her fingers curled around her sheets in a death grip. He was giving up. "I… can't do it again."

"Damn it! Why are you giving up so easily? What happened to you? If this is still about me lying to you—"

"It has nothing to do with that, although that was a nice trick. You know why."

And she did. Even if there was another treatment, he couldn't go through the desperation of having it come back. He'd rather suffer than continue to live in doubt of torturous pain-free moments. Although as refreshing of a reprieve it might be, it wasn't enough. He wanted the whole pie, not little slices that left him guessing if he was ever going to get the entire thing.

Cuddy sighed. "Okay. At least let me get that PET scan of your brain to confirm it." She paused, gripping the sheets even tighter. "I know you said the pain is back, and I believe you, just let me get some proof of this to ease both our minds. From there, we'll think up of plan, okay?"

Silence settled in for a moment. She imagined him rubbing his forehead, and then running a hand down his face in thought.

"Thank you," House whispered over the line.

"Come see me first thing in the morning and we'll do it." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You're not alone, House. I'm not leaving you."

She heard static for a brief moment, then the click and the dial tone whining in her ear. Slowly, she returned the phone onto the stand and slid down under the covers, letting out a deep sigh. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to ignore the hot, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. His world was shrinking again, and hopefully she'll be able to stand by his side and help ward off his arch-nemesis, Pain, before it swallows him whole.

God, it was going to be a long battle.

But this time, she was going to be there every step of the way.


End file.
